[ The sensation fizzles away when the contact is broken, absent and strangely lacking now. Sypha runs her fingers over the opposite palm he had just held against his own, tugging her sleeve down to her knuckles. It's a decidedly poor substitute, and not enough to stop the heat rising in her cheeks as she meets his stare with her own. ]

The same. [ She casts an arm out to gesture around them, her smile gaining an edge of disbelief. ]

It still feels like I am dreaming most of the time. So many of the things that are commonplace for the Prismals here are so advanced they would be considered the work of witches and demons my world.